


From the Shadow

by flinchflower



Series: Slash Me Twice [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Discipline, Dom/sub, Haunting, Hunting, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-11
Updated: 2011-10-11
Packaged: 2017-10-24 12:15:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/263372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flinchflower/pseuds/flinchflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt 1: Shadow.  A hunt doesn’t go as planned, John is understanding, Dean less so.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not for profit, simply a writing exercise. Herein lies Dean/Sam slash, in an AU timeline where John did not lose his life. John appears in parental context only.

Sam ghosted along the wall of the crypt, focused on the engravings along the floor. His big fingers traced along the writing until he came to the name he needed, and he quickly ringed the stone with a circle of herbs, packed the flashpowder and salt into the name carved there. The invocation was simple, a little bit of old sympathetic magic that an old hoodoo practitioner north of Palo Alto had taught him. A quick touch with a match, and the whole saga of the haunting of the parish house was all over. Sam's eyes glittered in the flames.

Problem was, that meant it was time to face the music. He’d put it together in a flash, who the man was, as the spirit had roared out it’s name, trying to curse the three Winchester men in the name of God, and he’d hollered “Be back!” at his father and brother as they tried to corral it, unable to get a clear shot. Not proper Winchester hunting protocol, that. John demanded exacting obedience, and Sam had probably put a kink in a perfectly good plan that should have trapped the spirit and disabled it for a while. Except, realizing that the spirit was a priest, Sam thought it wouldn’t work, and had needed to take immediate action…

He sighed, eased out of the church, and walked the shadows until he came in clear view of the car. John had Dean in the Impala’s headlights, checking out the cut on his arm that he’d received just before Sam bolted. The light shone through his brother’s hair, and lit up John’s green eyes. It tugged at Sam’s heart, in a way, the light of the only home he’d ever known bathing them, cleaning away the stains of the night shadows that were still clinging to Sam.

John tied off the bandage around Dean’s arm.

“That’ll hold. Doesn’t look to need stitches, but we’ll clean it out when we get back to the motel. I’m gonna find your brother.”

“He’s standing right over there, Dad.”

Trust Dean’s sharp eyes to pick him out of the shadow. John made him a moment later, and beckoned sharply. Sam didn’t move, wanting to watch them in the Impala’s white light for a moment longer. He closed his eyes against the tears that sparkled unexpectedly there, and was startled when John’s rough grip circled his arm.

“Sam, are you hurt?”

He shook his head, and swallowed.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry- for what?”

“Ducking out.” He studied his dusty shoes.

John’s arm tightened on his shoulder. “Let’s go. We’ll talk about it at home. I’m not angry.” Sam blinked at the man in surprise. “You recognized what had to be done, knew how to do it, and took care of it. Let’s go, Sam, we need to get out of here, that was a lot of noise.”

Dean was waiting for him on the passenger side of the Impala. His green eyes glinted like peridot, and he was quick to yank Sam to him and press a kiss in as John settled into the car. Sam relaxed, which only gave the opportunity for Dean to spin him around and land two devastatingly hard slaps to each side of his ass.

“In,” he growled at the younger man, and Sam fumbled for the door handle, which provided Dean a perfect chance to swat him again. He sat down, bottom burning and cheeks flushed to match, and Dean slammed the door behind him. He felt like a frog that didn’t know which way to jump, hop out of kin, with John perfectly calm, and Dean angry. John’s calm eyes met Sam's in the rearview, and he could see the small smile his father gave him, even as the man put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, a silent signal asking the older boy to calm down. The drive was silent and long, the check-in at the motel just as quiet.

John was gruff, talking to them as he cleaned out the slash on Dean’s forearm, one of his typical reminder lectures, covering the points on staying together and keeping one another informed. “That said,” he rumbled, “Sam did the right thing. We trained for contingency plans, what to do if a man goes down, and Dean, you did well with that. Sam, thinking on your feet is an important skill, try to be a little more informative with what you’re relaying. That said, I’m gonna go find us some supper. You boys work it out while I’m gone.” The door closed quietly behind him, and Sam scuffed at a red flower on the dingy carpet with his big toe, waiting.

He wasn’t expecting Dean to sink onto the bed, rubbing his hands over his face.

“Dean?”

“I don’t know whether to beat the fuck out of you, or fuck you senseless.”

Ah. This Sam understood. _I’m furious with you for taking off without saying where, you bastard, but I’m proud of you, and I love you, and I was scared._ There was a trick to speaking Winchester, one he’d nearly forgotten at Stanford, where he’d wandered around in confusion for the first nine months, being reborn into a world where there weren’t a million meanings behind a few simple words. Sam shuffled underneath the weight of his guilt.

Finally, he swallowed, lowered his jeans and briefs, and knelt next to Dean. He folded his arms on his brother’s lap, and laid his head down on them, looking up at his lover, his best friend, let the trust well up into his eyes, trying to breathe slowly. Dean’s eyes searched his, long fingers twining into his hair.

“C’mere,” came the gruff request. “Ditch the jeans.” Sam slid the rest of the way out of the fabric, which collapsed with a puff of dust as he stepped out, standing closer to the older boy with a shy glance. Dean pulled him down until Sam was straddling the smaller man, seated in his lap, and the kiss… Sam felt dizzy with the touch of Dean’s lips, the light demanding flicker of his tongue, and had to break away with a gasp, lay his head on the older man’s shoulder.

Dean’s hands rubbed smooth circles down Sam’s back, easing the tension there with the questing heat of his fingertips, slow and easy, as he kissed and nipped at Sam’s exposed neck, at the pale shell of his ear. Sam was trembling now, and finally Dean smiled down at him. Sam felt a sharp swat to his rear end that renewed the tingling from Dean’s initial displeasure. His ass was hot, in sharp contrast to the cool room.

“I owe you a couple swats next time you get a spanking, Sammy.” Dean waited for Sam’s nod and the inevitable blush, nearly invisible in the dim. “But I’ve been hard since I saw you step into that shadow like you belonged there.” He felt Sam’s cock stiffen against his own, and nodded at the crack of light spilling from the bathroom against the shadowy motel room. “Shower. Now.”

Sam was never so glad to follow his brother into the light.

**Author's Note:**

> Theme Song while writing: Cherry Poppin' Daddies - Here Comes A Snake


End file.
